


Give Me a Sign

by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Dancing, Deaf, Deaf Character, Falling In Love, M/M, Romance, Sign Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 14:43:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles/pseuds/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because Eames is deaf doesn’t mean he isn’t the best Forger in dream work. Nor does it stop him from falling in love, even when he shouldn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me a Sign

**Author's Note:**

> **You can check out[here](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/) to follow my Tumblr for info about me and story updates.**
> 
> Warning: I twisted some timelines around and don’t fully follow canon!verse 
> 
> Notes: Inspired by a prompt: “Arthur/Eames where one of them is deaf and the other is hearing”. I actually wrote a mini drabble for this which I’ve already posted, but this story is somewhat of an extension of that drabble. So the drabble is repeated in here and the rest is new.

Eames was the best Forger in dreaming. The problem was that no one believed him, or anyone else who tried to promote him. The only opportunities Eames got to prove himself was when Yusuf, his best friend, brought him in on a job and the Extractor was patient enough to allow Eames the chance to show off.

 

This was one such time where Yusuf had brought Eames in on a job. Only this time the Extractor – a one Mallorie Cobb – and her Architect husband Dominic Cobb had gotten caught up in flight delays. This left Yusuf and Eames alone in a hotel suite with the seemingly impossible task of impressing the Point Man instead.

 

Eames had been informed about this Point Man. He was well known in the industry. Arthur. _Just_ Arthur. The man might as well have not been born with a last name considering how impossible it seemed to be for anyone to track it down. Master of research and information, both digging up and hiding away, Arthur looked more like a glorified accountant than a dream worker. Worse, he was always in a rush and as impatient as all hell.

 

‘You brought a deaf man onto a job?’ Arthur was yelling at Yusuf. Eames didn’t need to hear to know. He could read lips just fine – a fact Arthur didn’t seem to consider – and he could see the way Arthur’s jaw was clenched.

 

 _Problem?_ Yusuf spoke and signed at the same time, more considerate of Eames’ needs. It was always easier to catch full conversations when someone signed as well as mouthed the words.

 

‘Yes, it’s a problem!’ Eames didn’t catch anymore of what Arthur said on the matter since he began to pace. The only other word Eames caught was ‘daycare’.

 

 _Dick_ , Eames signed.

 

He saw the laugh lines crinkle under Yusuf’s eyes. _He’s just worried you’ll get hurt_ , Yusuf told him.

 

 _Let me prove otherwise_ , Eames scowled.

 

 _One dream_ , Yusuf proposed to Arthur, still signing for Eames. _Let him show you_.

 

Arthur turned his full attention to Eames, looking him over critically. Then he nodded and Eames smirked.

 

One dream was all he needed.                             

 

#

 

“Arthur, darling,” Eames grabbed Arthur’s hand and kissed the back of it before the Point Man could fight him off.

 

Arthur’s eyebrows arched high across his forehead. “You can talk?”

 

“I can always talk,” Eames said. “I just don’t like to when I can’t hear my own voice.”

 

“But you can hear in dreams?” Arthur took a half-step closer before he hesitated, remembering that he was approaching a near-stranger. The wonderment didn’t leave his eyes.

 

Eames cracked a smug grin. “That’s not even the main event,” he promised with a wink.

 

Then he proceeded to blow away every assumption Arthur had ever had about the abilities of deaf people.

 

#

 

By the time Mal and Dom arrived at the hotel suite a day later, things were settled and everyone had started work. Eames was reading through the folders of information Arthur had compiled for him, Yusuf in the back corner doing his thing and Arthur at his laptop. Occasionally Eames would look over and watch Arthur’s fingers dancing over the keyboard, imagining what it must sound like when Arthur typed so quickly, but the idea never held him for long.

 

Once the Extractor and Architect arrived Eames went down into a dream with them and showed off his Forging skills. He was accustomed to showing everything he had to offer in just one dream, though perhaps he showed off with a little less pizzazz to Dom and Mal than he had to Arthur. Regardless, they shook his hand and thanked him for coming on such short notice, and they all went topside to discuss plans.

 

As they laid out their plans for the job Yusuf signed for Eames, clarifying details, though everyone spoke a bit slower to allow him to read lips. Everyone except Arthur. Eames didn’t blame him, exactly; Arthur just didn’t know how to slow down. His mind was always three points ahead, sifting through those endless piles of facts.

 

Eames should’ve just kept his eyes on Yusuf whenever Arthur was talking, but Eames found it rather difficult and unappealing to look away from Arthur. He liked studying the crisp lines of Arthur’s suit and the way his hands smoothed down fabric or flipped through pages or tucked a stray strand of black hair behind his ear.

 

It was all incredibly enthralling.

 

#

 

Down in the dream Eames had his arm wound around the narrow waist of their mark, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Across the banquet hall he could see Arthur watching them, eyes sharp and calculating. Feeling a little bold, Eames tipped his hat and flashed Arthur a dangerous smile.

 

Even with the distance between them Eames could make out the faint blush blooming on Arthur’s cheeks before he turned away.

 

Eames smiled for a second longer before turning back to his mark.

 

#

 

‘It was a pleasure, Eames,’ Arthur mouthed slowly.  They were alone on the far side of customs at the airport. Dom and Mal had already exited the airport ahead of them, and Yusuf was still stuck in the line-up waiting to get through customs.

 

Eames nodded. _Another job soon_ , he signed. His heart clenched painfully when he saw apologetic confusion on Arthur’s face, unable to understand Eames’ signing. Eames opened his mouth to speak but the words died in his throat; he didn’t have the courage to speak when he couldn’t hear.

 

‘I have to catch my connecting flight,’ Arthur mouthed to him, eyes sad as he took one and then two steps backward.

 

In a panic Eames rushed forward and grabbed Arthur’s hand, holding it tightly. Arthur’s eyes widened and then softened. They shook hands and it wasn’t enough, not what Eames truly _wanted_ , but then some noise Eames couldn’t hear caught Arthur’s attention as he looked towards a speaker on the ceiling.

 

It must’ve been an announcement about his connecting flight because when Arthur turned back to Eames he mouthed ‘I’m sorry’.

 

Eames held tighter, feeling oddly frantic and lost, but finally he was forced to let Arthur’s hand slip from his grasp, and watch as Arthur walked quickly to the far doors where the sign read ‘ _Connecting Flights_ ’. 

 

Eames’ hand fell limp at his side and he stared at the doors Arthur disappeared through until Yusuf touched his shoulder and gave him a smile. Eames didn’t bother trying to smile back, knowing he would not be successful.

 

 _Another job with him_ , he signed to Yusuf almost desperately, even though he knew it would not immediately bring Arthur back to him.

 

 _I’ll call tomorrow_ , Yusuf promised him.

 

It was the only thing that kept the sudden rush of loneliness from consuming Eames as they walked towards the airport exit.

 

#

 

Yusuf was a man of his word and over the next three years Eames got to work with Arthur and the Cobbs nine more times. On a few smaller jobs Yusuf decided to stay in Mombasa where it was warm, not really needed for his chemicals or signing. The group of them had formed an unofficial team and a routine for each job. Most of the information could be given to Eames in printed form from Arthur, and any complex ideas or discussions could be hosted in a dream.

 

Eames didn’t hold it against them when his teammates didn’t bother to learn sign language; after all, they only saw him a few times each year.

 

Eames liked working with Dom and Mal, but he liked working with Arthur best. Eames liked the way Arthur challenged him but also worked alongside him. After Eames had proven wrong Arthur’s initial ignorant assumptions, Arthur treated him like a normal member of the team. Over time Arthur remembered to speak slower so Eames could read his lips, and made a point to work with Eames more closely in reality and dreams for them to plan, but he never babied Eames.

 

#

 

Over the years Eames fell desperately and hopelessly in love with Arthur. Even though he told himself not to. Even though he told himself he was a fool, and that Arthur could never love him in return. Arthur wasn’t mean or uncaring to Eames, but Eames couldn’t see someone as fast-paced as Arthur being willing to slow down and walk alongside Eames.

 

Arthur was the best Point Man in dream share.

 

Eames was the best Forger but he was deaf. He could do his work marvellously in dreams but out in reality Eames simply couldn’t keep up with Arthur. If they crossed the wrong people and got into danger Eames would never be able to hear the warning creak of a floorboard, or back Arthur up in an argument. It would always be Arthur reaching back for him, pulling him forward, helping them stay matched.

 

Eames refused to drag Arthur down so he loved Arthur from a distance, admiring always and helping whenever he could.

 

Some days were easier than others. It was easy when Eames saw Arthur acting and reacting lightning quick, knowing they weren’t even on the same level and that Arthur was better off without him. When danger came too close for comfort and Eames could only acknowledge silently to himself that Arthur would be safer with someone else watching his back.

 

It was harder every time Arthur chose Eames to watch his back anyway, despite the risks. When Arthur started surprising Eames during their slower jobs by bringing a book with him and practicing some sign language, genuinely attempting to form a new connection between them. When Arthur sat closer, smiled more, and lingered longer at each of their inevitable partings.

 

In the three years Eames had known Arthur he had never heard a hint of Arthur having a romantic relationship.

 

Eames’ mind vehemently told him that such a detail could be kept hidden from him, or that the reason could just be because Arthur was too busy to date. But Eames’ heart pined endlessly anyway.

 

#

 

They were out celebrating a job well done, Mal taking them to one of her favourite clubs in Paris. Mal and Dom had been swallowed up by the mass of dancing bodies on the floor a few minutes ago, leaving Eames alone with Arthur at their booth. They were both nursing the last two sips of their drinks and, feeling foolishly bold, Eames pulled out a pen from his pocket and grabbed a napkin.

 

‘One dance?’ he requested, sliding the napkin down the length of the table where Arthur could read it sitting beside him.

 

Arthur weathered his lip as he considered the question and Eames watched that lip being bit. When Arthur grabbed the pen Eames didn’t put up a fight, letting the Point Man take it and scribble a response. Even in the shadowed club Eames could make out Arthur’s blush.

 

‘Don’t you need to hear music to dance?’

 

Arthur was watching Eames nervously when Eames looked back up from the napkin. Eames shook his head and reached forward, holding a hand over Arthur’s thrumming heart. He hoped he was expressing himself clearly without needing to try to put it into words. Eames didn’t need music; his heartbeat could match the music’s rhythm even if his ears couldn’t hear it.

 

Eames received a small affectionate smile but Arthur didn’t stand up to head for the dance floor. ‘You could make me a very happy man,’ Eames scrawled, pushing the napkin back again. Only after he relinquished his words for Arthur’s eyes did he realize how much his statement implied. He wanted to grab it back, his hand twitching with the instinct, but Arthur had already read it. Now Eames could only wait.

 

Arthur took the pen back and tapped it against the table a few times, clearly lost in thought. Then he brought pen to paper and Eames forgot to breathe. When Arthur was done writing he folded up the napkin and slipped it into the breast pocket of Eames’ dress shirt. Eames reached for it immediately but Arthur stopped him by capturing Eames’ hand with his own, tugging him up and towards the dance floor.

 

Eames wasn’t going to argue, standing as close to Arthur as he dared on the edge of the dance floor. He didn’t want to get caught up in the crowd, especially since he couldn’t follow the beat of the music beyond the vibrations working through the floor and into his legs. Arthur didn’t seem to mind dancing on the fringes, winding his arms loosely around Eames’ neck and swaying slowly.

 

Arthur’s movements were a bit nervous and stiff so Eames rested his hands on Arthur’s narrow hips, moving them together in smooth circles. Eames didn’t know when one song ended and the next began but it didn’t matter, both of them swaying to their own private rhythm. At some point the lighting dimmed in the club, but as Eames shuffled forward Arthur pulled back. The Point Man looked sad but determined.

 

Before Eames could stop it from happening, Arthur disappeared amongst the dancing throng. Eames pushed through groups of dancers but couldn’t see Arthur anywhere. When he met up with Mal and Dom by the bar he shouted Arthur’s name as loudly as he could, uncaring of how he sounded. Mal made an apologetic face and pointed towards the exit.

 

Eames’ heart fell into his shoes and he waved goodbye to them before heading for the exit. He was far too late by that point; Arthur was long gone. Confused and disappointed, Eames rushed to pull the napkin from his pocket and unfurl it. He got the napkin smoothed out and read Arthur’s tiny writing filling up the final corner of the napkin.

 

‘This isn’t a good idea, I’m sorry.’

 

Eames cursed and pulled out his phone, selecting Arthur’s number and typing his message quickly.

 

 _You thought that bringing a deaf man onto a job wasn’t a good idea either_ , he texted quickly. _But you gave me a chance and look at how well it worked out_. Eames’ hands were trembling, his emotions barely in check. _Give us a chance. Think about it_.

 

Now Eames just had to wait and let Arthur weigh all the options before eventually making his decision. Eames just hoped it was a decision his heart could survive.

 

#

 

Eames was lounging in bed in his flat in Mombasa, sleep eluding him as he stared at the dark ceiling. It had been five months since he had heard from either of the Cobbs or Arthur and he was feeling equally anxious and abandoned. Had something happened? Were they dead? Or were they just busy completing jobs they couldn’t afford to bring a deaf man along for? Had Eames finally become obsolete?

 

He had texted them but had received no response. Yusuf kept insisting he had heard nothing either despite his attempts and Eames was 80% sure his best friend was telling the truth and not just lying to make Eames feel better.

 

It was the sudden light shining on his ceiling as his cell phone lit up that caught Eames’ attention. He rolled over and grabbed it off his nightstand, feeling his heart jump when he saw it was from Arthur.

 

 _I’m outside_.

 

Eames didn’t even take the time to put a shirt on, practically falling out of bed in his hurry to get to his front door. As soon as the door was open Eames got a glimpse of Arthur for the first time in almost half a year and he wasn’t happy with what he saw. Suit wrinkled, hair askew, two day stubble on Arthur’s jaw and worrying dark circles under those brown eyes.

 

Arthur was babbling too quickly for Eames to catch a word. Eames had never longed to hear more than in that moment when he saw a stray tear trail down Arthur’s cheek. He could tell that what Arthur was saying was important, but he couldn’t make anything out. And then Arthur was wrapping his arms around Eames, his fingers clutching at Eames’ back as Arthur buried his face in Eames’ neck.

 

Eames didn’t need to hear to sense the way Arthur’s body shook, or feel the wetness of Arthur’s tears flowing freely.

 

He got the door closed and locked and then steered Arthur further into the flat. Eames wanted to get Arthur comfortable and relaxed but Arthur refused to let go and Eames refused to lose Arthur from his embrace. So they stood in the middle of Eames’ darkened flat, Eames holding Arthur together and saving him from falling to pieces.

 

Arthur seemed unable to calm himself down. It was scary. Eames had never seen Arthur so out of control before, and wondered if this frantic breakdown was the price of keeping one’s emotions locked up tightly for years. He wanted Arthur to be able to release all his pent up emotions but he worried when Arthur was unable to stop.

 

Finally Eames hushed him quietly, hoping he sounded soothing when all he could feel was the rush of air past his tongue and lips.

 

Arthur held him tighter but finally stopped crying, and Eames continued whatever sound he was making, too concerned to feel self-conscious about what he sounded like.

 

Once Arthur had calmed down Eames brewed them tea and across the small kitchen table Arthur told him the details, mouthing most of it, signing what he could and writing down anything he couldn’t properly convey.

 

Mal was dead.

 

Dom was on the run.

 

Eames cried too, when he was finally told of the loss. It seemed odd to him that he felt perfectly fine before Arthur arrived, his friend already dead but his life continuing on as normal. All Arthur had to do was tell him that one fact – _Mal is dead_ – and Eames’ world crumbled around him.

 

With their tea finished and their bodies exhausted from their anguish, Eames took Arthur’s hand and led him to bed. They curled up together under the sheets and stayed close until they both fell asleep.

 

The next morning Eames woke up to an empty bed.

 

Eames didn’t know it was possible for his heart to shatter into smaller pieces but it managed the task. Eames cried without restraint into the pillow that still smelled of a shampoo not his own. Then he jumped almost a foot into the air when he felt fingers slip into his hair and stroke calmingly. Eames whirled around to find Arthur sitting down on the edge of his bed, holding up a cup of steaming tea in his free hand a little sheepishly.

 

Purposefully Eames took the mug from Arthur’s hand and set it on the nightstand. Then he captured both of Arthur’s wrists in his hands and pulled Arthur down onto the bed. When Arthur came willingly Eames crawled on top of him, holding Arthur close and sealing their lips together.

 

When he felt Arthur kiss him back Eames knew his heart would mend.

 

#

 

Eames watched as Arthur studied the book on the table, imagining the sound of Arthur's fingers fidgeting with the corner of one page. Eames read the concentrated furrow of Arthur's eyebrows, and the faint blush on his cheeks a moment before Arthur turned to him and slowly signed.  
  
_I guard you._  
  
It was an easy mistake for a beginner to make, Arthur crossing his arms in front of his chest but forgetting to curl his hands into fists for 'love'. Eames felt laughter shake his body, deaf to the sound though it made Arthur's eyes widen. Before Arthur could get too self-conscious Eames signed back, _'I guard you too_ ' and then pulled him closer for a kiss.

 

#

 

The bed swayed with them as Eames rocked into Arthur again and again, enjoying the slow-burning passion consuming them both. Arthur had told him that the neighbours complained to him about the bed creaking but Eames wouldn’t know and certainly didn’t care. A few months ago Eames had gotten over his shyness about talking and making noise in reality even without being able to hear.

 

Eames had noticed his throat and chest vibrating with moans he couldn’t hear and had cut himself off, but couldn’t stop the whine catching in the back of his throat when Arthur paused their lovemaking. By that point Arthur was getting pretty familiar with sign language and had signed to Eames with trembling fingers. _Don’t stop sound. It’s hot_.

 

Eames liked the way Arthur was a little less formal and proper in how he spoke when using sign language, resorting to whatever simple words he did know how to sign. Arthur’s words hit Eames with both affection and heat, and when he pulled out and pushed back in Eames released the moan that had been building in his chest since they had begun.

 

The more Eames moved the more he spoke, starting first with just noises and then speaking whatever came to mind; telling Arthur how beautiful he was, how good he felt, how Eames loved Arthur more than anything else in the world. Eames couldn’t hear his own babbling but Arthur seemed to like it, arching desperately under Eames and coming almost immediately and milking Eames to his own completion.

 

After that Eames had no intention of ever being quiet again. Just because his world was silent didn’t mean Arthur’s needed to be as well. And even though Eames couldn’t hear Arthur’s voice say ‘I love you too’ in return outside dreams it didn’t bother Eames. Because Eames knew what the words tasted like when he kissed Arthur, and knew what they felt like when Arthur mouthed the words against Eames’ neck every time Arthur came.

 

Eames wouldn’t say it was better than hearing per se, but it was all Eames would ever need alongside the feel of Arthur dozing in his arms each night before they both drifted off to sleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> **You can check out[here](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/) to follow my Tumblr for info about me and story updates.**


End file.
